A Series of Strange Family Events
by The Rational Dove
Summary: A collection of oneshots about a few children born to the oddest of parents. How odd? Well, let’s just say your average kid isn’t related to some of the greatest nations the world has ever known. No Mpreg included.
1. Fire

**A Series of Strange Family Events**

**Summary: A collection of one-shots about a few children born to the oddest of parents. How odd? Well, let's just say your average kid isn't related to some of the greatest nations the world has ever known. No Mpreg included.**

**Chapter 1: Fire**

**Pairing: FrUK**

* * *

"England's coming home today, right?"

Elizabeth lowered her book so that only her forest green eyes could gaze at the man seated across from her. "It's been on the calendar ever since he left." She replied simply, irises slowly returning to her novel.

" _Je sais, mon enfante."_ France responded, suddenly reverting to French.

"_Pourquoi l'avez-vous signalé, puis ?__ "_ Elizabeth inquired, her eyes still reading.

"_Je n'ai aucune idée."_

Elizabeth snorted. She knew why France had brought it up. He was just too proud-too stubborn to admit it. The 14 year old often wondered why France couldn't just say he was _worried _or, even better, that he actually _longed _for England's presence. It wasn't like he had anything to be embarrassed about. I mean, how long had her parents been married?

As if the discussion has summoned him, the doorbell called out to the two occupants, heralding the Brit's arrival. Elizabeth set the book to the side and removed herself from the couch. France followed suit, closely behind the girl. Elizabeth turned the doorknob, pulling the door itself open.

England, duffle bag slung over his shoulders, wore a pleased and relieved face on as he slipped into the house. After scuffing the mud from his shoes onto the welcome mat, he turned to the rest of the family for a proper greeting.

"Bonjour, Mummy." Elizabeth cooed, planting a kiss on England's cheek. "It's great to see you! How was your visit to America?" she took England by the hand and led him to the couch.

"Not enjoyable." He grumbled, plopping himself next to his daughter as she sat herself.

"It's just because it's America, right?"

England scowled. "How would you like it if someone forced you to try a hamburger?"

"_Donnez-moi une coupre."_ Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Can't you just get along with him for once?"

Before England could respond, France's arms were draped over his neck and the former's mouth whispered against his ear. "You should listen to your daughter, _mon cher_." France then proceeded to press his lips to England's temple.

England attempted to chase away the smile curving his own lips, but only ended up making a weird smirk. "Aren't I entitled to my own opinions, Francis?" he replied, arms folded defiantly across his chest.

Elizabeth was left to merely observe her parents until a quite prominent odor invaded her nostrils. "Eww…." Her nose crinkled in disgust. "What is that SMELL?"

England sat up, escaping France's arms. "Yeah….Smells like something is burning."

France, his face as white as parchment, abruptly leaped from the couch. "_Mon dieu_!" he cried, making a mad dash into the kitchen. The rest of the family was left to follow him, already predicting the origin of the burnt smell. A second later, the fire alarm sounded a panicked call throughout the house as a voluminous fire erupted from a frying pan sitting alone on the stove.

Elizabeth's eyes augmented at the furious flames, belatedly reminding her of the welcome home meal France and she had been preparing moments before. She scanned the room in a vain attempt to find the fire extinguisher. In the corner of her eye, she observed England grip the handle of the pan and make his way over to the sink, while France-

Wait….The SINK?

"MUMMY!!! NO!" she screeched, as horrifying visions of the flames devouring the entire house filled her brain. Quick as she could, the girl flung herself between England and the sink, protecting the water source.

England confusion muddled with the fear dominating his features "Hello!" he shouted, his voice trembling. "I have a fire here." He nodded his head to the billowing flames in the pan he was now holding, as if Elizabeth hadn't already noticed it, which was virtually impossible.

Elizabeth remained where she was. "It's a GREASE FIRE!!!!! BRING IT OUTSIDE!!!!!!!" She yelled.

France, putting himself to use, guided England and the flaming food outside while Elizabeth retrieved the fire extinguisher after a moment of throughout searching. Shaking, she carryied the red canister to France, who removed the pin, aimed the nozzle and released the solution onto the orange fire.

By this time, the fire alarm was still squealing and a thin layer of smoke hovered in the air. Numbly, Elizabeth assisted France and England in opening every window and door in the house to let fresh air circulate.

Minutes later, far after the alarms had ceased their clamor, the threesome had retired to the couch, bundled in as many blankets as were readily available as the chilling winter wind blew through the house.

"You are stupid, you know that England?" Elizabeth pointed out after a moment of stony silence.

France burst into a fit of laughter at his daughter stingy comment. "I must say, _Angleterre_. That was not the smartest of moves."

England, not fond of having both his daughter and his husband pick on his lack of common sense, quickly fired a rebuttal argument: "I was panicking and didn't think straight."

"So? Elizabeth and I were panicking, yet we somehow managed to remember that grease fires and water do not mix." France pointed out, his voice showing a hint of triumph over an unknown victory.

England lightly punched France's arm in frustration. "Git. You would've done the same thing if you had the pot!"

A heated debate between the two men of the household ensued and perpetuated until the argument lost both its energy and purpose. Not wanting to get up and head to bed, France and England were both content to sleep on the couch, forgetting to change into pajamas. This left Elizabeth the task of closing up all the windows and doors so as to not transform the house into an icebox. After slipping on a nightgown, she treaded back to the living room and squeezed herself next to her parents, pulling the wool blankets closer to her. Normally, she would've thought twice about sleeping with her parents, but the excitement of the day had sapped her energy.

"_Welcome home, England."_ She thought peacefully as she sunk in a warm, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Footnotes:

_Je sias, mon enfant-_ I know, my child.

_Pourquoi l'avez-vous signalé, puis-_ Why did you point it out, then?

_Je n'ai aucune idée_- I have no idea.

_Donnez-moi une coupre_- Give me a break. (Note: I understand that this phrase is more or less something only English-speaking people would say, but since Elizabeth is part English, I would think that she could translate this with its intentions still intact.)

_Mon cher_-My dear

_Mon dieu-_ My God

_Angleterre-_England

I hope this was enjoyable for you all. Thanks so much for reading!

~AnimeOtakuFreak1029


	2. Rain

**A Series of Strange Family Events**

**Chapter 2: Rain**

**Pairing: Giripan**

* * *

Two green eyes with the lightest tint of brown on the edges gazed out through a window at the downpour outside. A crowd of droplets had condensed onto the cool pane, dripping lazily down the glass in miniscule streams about the width of an ant. The drops blurred the scenery beyond it, although the rain itself had reduced the yard to a shattered gray muddle of lines and shapes. She blinked slowly, transfixed, the sudden absence of the cat on her lap negligible.

Tokoma had always venerated the beauty of nature in all forms, but merely taking in the sight from inside seemed boring and brought back fragments of hardships she had endure. Her mind pictured a gaunt face glaring out at the somber world surrounding its prison, eyes wanting to be part of that lively place once again.

Tokoma dispersed these thoughts. She would never be that pale ghost-anything but that wistful girl with dulled eyes and stone-cold cheeks. She came to her feet and walked down the hallway, the scuffing of her boots the only sound present.

She crossed the living room, her eyes flicking a glance at her _πατέρας _and _otokooya _sitting at the kotatsu, their conversation paused as she strolled through. She felt their curious eyes on her back, but didn't acknowledge their stares as she exited the house and slipped onto the veranda.

In moments her boots stood alone, white socks shoved into their toes. Tokoma herself sat cross-legged on the wooden porch, feeling strands of stray raven hair sway in time with the moist breeze. Tiny mists of water floated in towards the house, but not enough to even dampen the girl who sat there. Tokoma's eyes soaked in the rain as a fond memory flooded back to her.

*~*~*

_A downpour had adulterated the brief dry spell Japan had been experiencing over the last week, quenching the plants' thirst for rain. In the back of the house, Tokoma, a 6-year-old at the time, twirled in the yard, her face upturned to the clouds masking the sky .Her arms were spread out as if she wished to embrace the entire gray ceiling and a blissful smile of equal broadness shone on her countenance. The little girl donned one of Greece's many white T-shirts, with the edges extending to her knees in a sort of dress and the sleeves ending at her elbows. Japan, in a navy-blue yukata, and Greece, the normal T-shirt-khaki-pants-jacket getup, were seated on the veranda, the only audience to their daughter's ballet in the rain._

_She leaped and spun, the ground squishing under her bare feet, until she stopped, giving a dramatic pose as a sign of the conclusion of her performance. The adults under the awning clapped enthusiastically for Tokoma and she bowed._

"_Arigato!_ _Σας ευχαριστούμε!" she chirped her thank-yous as imaginary red roses settled at her feet. When her eyes returned forward, she remembered how her dance had lacked an essential element- a dance partner. For the time being, her imagination created hands in hers and another person moving in time to her dance beat_. "It wasn't enough,"_ she thought. A real person with warming hands and moving feet would be worth all the while. She stood, smirking at her audience, already choosing two such partners._

"_Now, for my next show, I will need two volunteers to assist me," Her eyes pretended to search through a mob of people for the right couple. Greece and Japan's cheerful smile drew into thin lines of disapproval. The sound of participating in Tokoma's little activity didn't appear promising, especially since the adults wished to remain relatively dry._

"_Tokoma, I don't think we-"Japan began to state his reasons as to why Greece and him could not be volunteers. Tokoma, however, wasn't in the mood for excuses. Before either male had enough time stop the girl in her plans, two thin hands took two to her hands and dragged the victims into the wake of the rain._

_Greece pat his hair nervously as the drops showered on him, as if his curly locks would poof up without warning and Japan tried to slink away to the safety of the veranda, but Tokoma managed to keep her parents from escaping her sight._

_As soon as she secured the pair's position outside, she grabbed Greece's hands and led him in a dance, whirling and spinning around with him. She did a funky sort of jig, solely coming from improvisation while she sung a Greek song her _πατέρας _had taught her._

_Greece soon enthusiastically twirled alongside Tokoma, letting her lead him in the steps. He mimicked her as she leaped and danced. Tokoma giggled, ventured over to Japan (whom had been observing this event, mildly amused) and yanked him over, soundlessly adjured Japan to join in._

_The family crafted a circle out of their arms and revolved around its center, changing direction every so often. Tokoma skipped along, her knees brought up high, almost level with her chest. Greece imitated Tokoma's gleeful skip and even Japan had a tiny spring to his step._

_Thirty minutes passed before hands were dropped and the circle ceased its evolution. Tokoma laughed merrily, clapping excitedly. "Again! Again!" she squealed, jumping up and down._

_Japan approached the child and scrutinized her disheveled appearance. Her thick bangs messily stuck to her wet forehead, her long black hair slick with rainwater. Greece's T-shirt adhered to her form like her bangs did, a shoulder peeking out of the neck hole. "You're a mess," he remarked, covering the revealed shoulder and brushing her dripping bangs out from her eyes._

"_OTOKOOYA!" she whined, annoyed. "I'm fine. You're as messy as I am!" _

_Japan gazed down at himself, noticing, for the first time, how soaked his yukata was and the muddied hem near his ankles. He had to hand it to Tokoma for being observant._

_A tap on Japan's shoulder brought his attention from his appearance. He turned to face Greece, looking at him with a questioning gaze. "Yes, Hera-kun?" he asked._

_The Greek's eyes shone as he spoke; "Excuse me, miss? Would you care to join me in a dance?" he bowed gallantly, extending his hand forward for Japan to take._

_Japan glanced at the hand reluctantly. The proposition didn't sound that promising….._

_Tokoma's eyes shone a million times brighter at Greece's proposal. _"Dansu! Dansu! Dansu!"_ she chanted, her fist bobbing up and down. "C'mon, _otokooya_! It'll be fun!" she encouraged._

_Japan drew in a breath and slipped his hand into Greece's. Immediately, the smaller nation was drawn close, a stronger, yet gentle hand at his waist. Japan placed his arm around the back of Greece's neck as their fingers interlocked. Greece led Japan into a slow waltz, the latter mirroring Greece without flaw. _

_Tokoma, feeling the need to add musical accompaniment to their dance, sung "Country Where the Sun Rises, Zipangu". Although the lyrics were not the least bit romantic, it was the slowest song Tokoma could recite without flaw. Her voice floated in the thinning rain, the melody crystal clear; it was obvious Tokoma had inherited Japan's talent for singing._

"_Nagai rekishi no naka ni wa _

_hiki komotte ita toki mo aru _

_Minasan yori wa _

_unto jiisan touyou ni ukabu watashi "_

_The words slid gracefully off Tokoma's tongue, every note in tune. At "watashi", Greece removed his arm from Japan and spun him with the other; the edges of Japan's yukata billowing ever so slightly, before Greece brought him close once again. _

_The sun peeked through the shield of gray, chasing away some of the clouds to allow a bit of blue to bleed through. The afternoon light shone down on the three people as they finished the dance. Tokoma let the final note tremble in her throat before fading into the stillness of the evening air._

_Japan and Greece separated, ceasing their swaying when the music stopped. Greece bowed once again, a soft smile worn on his face. Japan, in an effort to act Western-like, gathered the cloth of his yukata, lifted the hem so that his ankles showed and attempt a curtsy to his partner._

_Tokoma was in hysterics. Tears poured from her eyes as her knees sunk into the water-soaked earth and a fist pounded the grass. The other hand clutched her stomach, her breath evading her lungs for periods of time. "Oh my…." She gasped between fits of laughter. "He just….just..." her words were overlapped by her howling laughter. "I can't believe you actually _curtsied_, otokooya. Imagine that! We should've caught that on camera!"_

_A light blush expanded over Japan's cheeks at her daughter. "Was...was it that awkward?"_

_Greece shrugged his jacket-covered shoulders "I think she just finds it so unusual. That and you didn't do it right…." _

_Tokoma got back to her muddy soles, brushing the tears from her eyes. Her jubilant cries of amusement were abruptly impeded as Tokoma witnessed the biggest rainbow she had ever laid her eyes upon. The rainbow was a completed arc, its many colors prominent against the sorrow sky._

"_It's amazing!" Tokoma gasped in awe at the spectacle of light. Her eyes were fastened onto the rainbow, almost afraid the sight would disintegrate lest her eyes wander._

"_It sure is." Greece mumbled, pulling his husband close to him. In one swift moment, he cupped Japan's face in his hands and joined their lips together._

_Japan was slightly taken aback, but his hands coiled around the Greek's waist in an intimation of his approval. In a few second, Greece's tongue wandered in Japan's mouth and their lips moved against each other, equally matched._

"_EWWWWWWWW!" Tokoma's whine brought the couple out of their affectionate gesture. The girl's nose was crinkled in disgust; a sour frown curled her lips. "Couldn't you do that in private or something?" she continued, tapping a foot on the soggy soil. "It's ruining the rainbow!" she nodded her head to the now-fading arch of color._

_Greece, for a brief moment, appeared annoyed, but the expression vanished, replaced with a mischievous smirk. "You know what would make things even better?" he asked his daughter, placidly approaching her._

_Tokoma disliked her _πατέρας_'s expression and she backed away as fast as Greece was advancing. "What?" she inquired, fearing the answer._

"_A visit from the Tickle Monster!"_

_Tokoma eyes blew up to the size of the tea saucers in the kitchen cabinet. With a little squeal, she retreated from Greece, who raced after her, eyes never once staying from their target. Tokoma yelped as the male's fingered caught her and ravaged her with tickles._

_Tokoma screeched, shooing the hands away as she broke into another sprint._

_This perpetuated, as the drizzle made its home on the ground, the rainbow melting in the fleeting light of the setting sun._

_*~*~* _

Tokoma's mind retrogressed to her current position on the deck, clothes still dry, eyes still absorbing the water. How long ago had that transpired? 8-9 years? What day had it been? Sometime in June or July? Perhaps April? Tokoma couldn't remember-didn't care to recall the exact date, month, year. She wasn't even positive the memory was valid. Perhaps it was a mere dream-a figment of her imagination, her picture of a time that never was.

Tokoma inhaled softly, listening to the sizzle of rain on grass. Whether that past event had or had not happened, this moment was live-playing right now- on February 11, 2010. This was a golden opportunity to recreate her mind's eye like she did with words, with drawings, with ideas. Tokoma deserted her post on the veranda and allowed the water to wash her as her bare feet sunk into the dirt, bloated with rainwater. She unwound, giving her body the permission to freely dance, spin, skip, exist in the storm. In minutes, she was soaked to the bone, drops caught in her hair.

Tokoma turned, the only witness as her parent slid out of the house and stood there, tossing back Tokoma's curious stare. Another memory-one of the recent ceremony around a small pile of presents, a pair of cat ears perched on black hair, flashed through her brain. It was _otokooya's _birthday, Tokoma recited for the umpteenth time that day. She came back the porch, her wet feet leaving behind muddy footprints on the wood. Maybe she'd add a little extra to that new katana case she'd had given him….

Her hands slipped into another hand, one for each parent. Tokoma produced a mental image of the energetic little girl dragging her reluctant parents with her. The 6-year-old was deleted, replaced with a 14-year-old, who, for the sake of doing something in the spur of the moment, leaped into the storm, two other nations in tow.

* * *

**This chapter is more or less my birthday present to Japan! I adore Giripan and this is my way of answering the question "What if they had a child?" I had another chapter prepared as opposed to this one, but that chapter was just aweful. Too ashamed to type it up, I started from scratch and well….here's what happened! I hope you enjoyed it!**

FOOTNOTES:

_Πατέρας_- Dad

_Otokooya_- Father

_Arigato- _Thank you

_Σας ευχαριστούμε- _Thank you

_Dansu- _Dance

_Nagai rekishi no naka ni wa –_ In my long history

_hiki komotte ita toki mo aru – _There were times where I withdrew into myself

_Minasan yori wa – _Compared to everyone else

_unto jiisan touyou ni ukabu watashi – _I am very much an old man, floating in the Orient

**As you can see, the song above isn't really one you'd want to dance to in terms of lyrics, but I found that it would be ironic to have a gloomy song being sung at such a time.**

**Also, I am going to be needing a lot of help with the languages in this fic, so if you are fluent in an of the languages below (or know enough to help me with translations), please either PM me or leave a review with the language you know and that you would like to be my personal translator. (I will be putting the names next to thelanguages already taken.)**

**French-nanxi**

**Greek-????**

**Japanese-???**

**Chinese-nanxi**

**Korean-??? **

**German-??? **

**Italian-???**

**Hungarian (possibly)-???**

**The list may change from chapter to chapter depending on who I may need.**

**Thanks again for reading and for all those who critiqued my French in the last chapter!**

**~AnimeOtakuFreak1029 **


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